Ephemeral
by MangaSockAttack
Summary: Matt disobeys Mello's orders and Mello finally snaps. This story may trigger strong negative reactions or PTSD in some, please read the warnings in the story and proceed with caution.


Title: Ephemeral  
Author: mangasockattack  
Rating: Explicit  
Warning(s): This story contains non-graphic rape, suicide, graphic violence and explicit language. This story may trigger PTSD or strong negative reactions in some, please proceed with caution.  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, lyrics, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Snippets of dialogue may be incorporated from the original canonical episode(s) and belong to their respective authors/creators. The original characters and plot are the property of the author(s). The author(s) is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, nor should any be inferred. No profit is being made.

I do not have a beta, so I apologies for any mistakes. Constructive critiques are appreciated!  
I wrote this to Again by Flyleaf, I recommend you listen to it while reading.

o.o.o.o

Matt and Mello returned to the motel they had shared for the past week and a half. They would have to move locations soon, but for now, it was beginning to feel a little like a home. The fact that they were comfortable, Mello thought, was precisely why they would have to leave soon. Any time they felt secure, they would begin to get complacent, so they couldn't let themselves settle anywhere for too long until Kira was dead.

Matt was ready to give it all up, the hunt for Kira, the constant movement. The only reason he stayed was because of Mello. If Mello wanted to move, they would move. If Mello wanted Matt to sit in front of screens for eight hours and watch some blonde whore, then fine, Matt would. Mello always got what he wanted. He was always in charge and everyone knew it but Mello. Even Near would bow to Mello's wishes, even though he hid it well.

Mello had a hypnotizing beauty and charisma about him. Mello had the kind of charisma that psychopaths had, the kind of charisma that charmed its way into the heart of the Mafia, the kind of charisma that turned one of the SPKs strongest agent into Mello's greatest asset, the kind of devastating charisma that made Matt put Mello first in everything.

It wasn't a new development, it had been like that ever since they first met at Wammy's House and Matt was pushed in the front door by Roger. Mello took one look at him and announced that Matt was his and that was the end of it.

The interesting part was that while Mello's life was in constant flux, Matt's wasn't. After Mello left, he had never stayed anywhere or done anything for very long. Wammy's House had been a stagnant pond and Mello had needed a roaring ocean. Wammy's was filled with the same classes and the same people, the same goals and the same disappointments. Matt had been a piece of Wammy's, a fixed figure in a never-ending equation. When Matt joined Mello in his chaotic world, Mello had gained a piece of his old life back, a piece that hadn't changed in the years they had been apart. Matt's presence was always with Mello or where Mello wanted it to be and that scared Mello.

Dependable wasn't a word Mello would use for anything, but it worked for Matt. He was dependable. For God's sake, he had hunted Mello down after three years of being separated! Matt liked things that were constant and Mello felt safer when things were transient. If things were changing, the only person you could trust was yourself and that was the only person Mello wanted to trust.

Matt yawned and stretched his arms above his head. "D'you want something to drink, Mels?" Matt asked, pouring himself a shot with the bottle on the sitting room table.

"We're not done for today Matt! You have to watch the monitors, I don't want you intoxicated." Mello barked, peeling off his gloves. Matt frowned and turned to look at Mello.

"Mels, haven't we done enough for now?" Mello's stomach turned at Matt's use of "we".

"No, you haven't and you won't have until I say so. Now watch the fucking screens." Mello replied calmly, walking out of the living room and into their shared bedroom. Matt sighed and turned back to the monitors. After about five minutes of watching the blonde and her body guard play cards, Matt's attention began to drift. He changed one of the computer screens to a video game he had been playing earlier and took a quick swig of the shot he had poured himself. Disobeying Mello was dangerous, but Matt was confident enough in what he was doing that he wouldn't miss anything important.

Minutes turned to hours, and Matt's attention continued to drift from the monitors. He switched a second monitor to his video game, only to hear Mello's voice next to him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Matt turned to see Mello's furious expression inches next to his face.

"I'm-" Matt was cut off by Mello's sharp right hook.

"I can smell the vodka on your breath, asshole! I gave you clear orders, what the fuck gives you the right to ignore them?!" Mello's countenance twisted into an ugly sneer. "You think you can just take charge?! HUH?!" Matt looked at Mello with wide eyes, he'd never seen Mello so furious.

"It's just some alcohol Mello. I'm still sober and I've been watching them the entire time!" Matt retorted, watching the blonde male carefully. Mello's expression darkened even further and his scowl deepened.

"That isn't for you to fucking decide!" Mello screamed, shoving Matt into the couch. Matt was carefully weighing his options. He had clearly fucked up big time, but he'd never seen Mello react so badly to something. Mello had been fragile after L's death, breakable even. L had been Mello's driving force, his mentor and his supporter. His death had clearly hit Mello harder then he cared to show. Now Mello's only driving force was revenge, a strong, deadly force that messed with Mello's stability.

Something in Mello had snapped. Matt had been expecting this to happen eventually, with their lifestyle it was inevitable, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. He hadn't expected Mello to break and then turn against him either. Matt had expected Mello to go mad after either he or Near had captured Kira. Mello was insanely powerful and driven, so if he was dead-set on killing someone, they would die. The fact that Mello had broken in front of him was what scared Matt. He couldn't get out of the situation, Mello would find him and things would be so much worse. He just had to wait it out and then cope with the aftermath.

"YOU ARE SO FUCKING USELESS!" Mello screeched, throwing Matt across the room. Matt hit the ground hard and heard something snap. Judging by the sudden pain in his left arm, he had broken something. Mello walked over and lifted his leg, kicking Matt hard in the stomach. Matt coughed and choked, only to be kicked again in the same spot. Matt could feel his ribs breaking under the force of Mello's kicks.

Mello grasped Matt's broken arm and yanked him up, causing Matt to yelp in pain. His quiet cry turned into scream when Mello took out his knife and thrust it deep into Matt's shoulder. Mello yanked it out and didn't pause a beat before he threw a jaw-breaking uppercut followed by a sharp jab to Matt's nose. As blood began to rush down Matt's face, Mello's breathing became more labored before he started to cry, stunning Matt into silence.

"I FUCKING HATE YOU!" Mello screamed again, grabbing Matt around the collar. Mello slammed Matt face-first into the wall with a loud thud. Grabbing Matt's broken arm, Mello twisted it behind him causing Matt to scream in pain for the second time and then Mello rubbed against his ass. Suddenly realizing what Mello was going to do, Matt twisted and squirmed, desperately trying to break from Mello's vice-like grip.

"Please" Matt gasped, his voice choked with tears he was fighting to keep at bay. "Please!""

Mello ignored his pleas, the hand not holding Matt's arm undoing the tie of his pants. Matt continued to fight, his feet struggling to find purchase on the carpet, already wet with blood and vodka. Matt sobbed and struggled and yelled but Mello had always been stronger than him. Mello released Matt's arm and Matt twisted around to find a way to escape, only to see Mello's cold eyes, no longer wet with tears, and a gun pointed in-between his eyes. Matt's eyes widened in shock and he stepped backwards again until his back hit the wall. Matt's face was covered in tear tracks that cut through the blood and his blue eyes were hurt, pained, confused and filled with another unidentifiable emotion.

Mello growled "On your knees, bitch." Matt bit back another sob, sliding down the wall until he fell onto his knees. Mello kicked him under the chin, causing his head to slam into the wall. Mello stepped over him, so he was straddling Matt. Mello finished undoing the tie of his pants and pulled them down. Without a trace of emotion, Mello leered over Matt.

"Suck it."

o.o.o.o.o.o

Hearing Matt cry out for the final time, Mello finally pulled out, stumbled back and collapsed several feet away. Matt didn't move, just allowed his arms to buckle underneath him and curl up on the disgusting motel floor. Matt couldn't feel anything but the stinging of being ripped open. He had stopped resisting about a half an hour ago, after fighting for several hours. Mello was actually quite proud of how long Matt had resisted, remembering all the training they had endured at Wammy's together. The years spent sharing classes and rooms, barking at Matt to leave him alone, only to beg for him to return later. With a sudden sense of alarm, Mello remembered watching Matt's pathetic form writhe beneath him and Mello had to redirect his train of thought before it went from nostalgia to pity. Pity is a dangerous emotion. If Mello could pity someone, Mello could empathize with them. Empathy led to reckless moves like becoming attached to someone or caring about them.

Mello had been in the business long enough to know that wanting to protect someone other then yourself is what got you killed. Mello's emotions were cutting dangerously close to concern for Matt's well being. So, Mello had acted. He had punished Matt, reminded him who was in charge, helped him remember that Mello didn't care about him. Matt was a tool and that was all he could ever be.

Mello could practically hear L in his ear, whispering his disapproval.

Instantly, Mello felt sick. A horrible, aching sickness that ran through his body and settled deep in the pit of his stomach. He felt like vomiting, but he choked it down, refusing to acknowledge pain or regret at what he had just done. He was still naked and he felt his shaking shoulders press against the rough motel wall. He was sweaty and bloody and he still gripped his gun tightly in his hand. He could hardly feel his finger because of how tightly they were gripping the base of his custom pistol. The feeling of the smooth, cool metal failed to calm Mello like it usually did and instead made him feel like he was going to pass out. The strong feeling of the firearm in his hand used to mean control. He could point and shoot and take down whoever he needed to. A gun was a gun was a gun. A gun didn't have feelings about killing someone or doubts or regrets. A gun did the job and all Mello had to do was pull the trigger. But here, now, Mello didn't feel control. He felt his world slipping and sliding and falling out of his grasp, like beautiful china hitting cold marble floor. Mello clutched the gun harder, hoping to a God he tried not to believe in that it would give him a command over his situation. His fingers turned purple as his shaking hand clutched the gun with all of his strength, waiting for the panic to leave him.

Mello's hands were sticky with blood and semen, forming a frothy pink solution that smelled like damnation. Looking over at Matt's broken form, Mello was filled with anguish.

Mello was suffocating. He had been pulled under water and couldn't reach the surface again.

"JUST MAKE IT STOP!" Mello screeched. Hearing no response from anyone, Mello succumbed to the insane urge to laugh. He threw his head back and let his high pitched cackles fill the room.

Mello put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.


End file.
